


Blessed are the Meek, for They will Inherit the Earth

by NocturnLily



Series: Blessed are the Meek [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 22:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20181826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NocturnLily/pseuds/NocturnLily
Summary: Kieran catches feelings for female reader, who’s already spoken for. Does she feel the same way? Shenanigans are bound to happen B)Warnings: Bully, asshole Micah doing bully, asshole things





	Blessed are the Meek, for They will Inherit the Earth

His sweet downfall started with the breath of a kiss.

This was a dance you and Kieran began shortly after his release, though he was a deeply uncertain, curious partner to it. There was nothing untoward, in the beginning—asking for his company at dinner time, helping with his chores, doubling down on fishing trips.

But it was the near, accidental touch of your lips that had sent him spiraling into hopeless pining.

You saw the way he looked at you from the corner of your peripheral, when he was sure your attention was elsewhere. The bounce in your step about camp after returning from a trip, the way you hummed to the pup, how you smiled into the polish of your firearms. He took pleasure in your contentedness.

Unfortunately for him, you were already in a courting dance with one other—this one, far more sour than the meek stable boy who yearned for the sparkle in your eye.

Micah idled at one of the tables, the pad of his thumb digging into fabric as oil ate away the grime on his knife. His attention, though, was as level as ice on calm waters as he stared the other man down across camp. His chest rose and fell with a steadiness that skirted dangerously on predatory, if the taut scowl of his lips was anything to go by. It quickly softened as you approached, however, corners curling up as he snatched up your wrist. Tenderly he guided you closer—performed of habit, you spun and took your perch on his lap with your legs tucked between his.

With a self-satisfied hum, his left hand slipped well below the small of your back as he replaced his knife in its sheath. You dragged affectionate trails in the fabric of his shoulder while the other rested on his chest, and he murmured something sweet to you.

You laughed, so soft and light, and Kieran didn’t realize he’d stopped mid-brush until those blue eyes fixed on him again—cold and malicious, the younger man felt it twisting his gut as he looked away.

Why you chose such a mean, conniving son of a bitch, he could never figure—you were too nice, too lovely. You were _too good_ for someone like him, not that Kieran fancied himself any more worthy of you. Far from it, but by God did he want at least a fighting chance.

That’s what he told himself, anyway. You were loyal—another quality he admired—and surely, if you were attracted to men like Micah, what chance did he truly stand? How could he possibly attract your attention when that would mean being duplicitous to yourself and your current beau? Kieran huffed, aggravated and morose, as he continued to tend—

“Whatcha lookin’ so sullen for, boy?”  


Kieran nearly jumped out of his skin, looking wide-eyed to the finger-splayed hand on the horse’s flank to its owner—_Micah_.

“W-what’chu mean, s-sir?”  


Metal and leather clinked and whined as the blond man came within an uncomfortable distance—Kieran could smell his morning cigarette and whiskey, and he swallowed hard.

“What I _mean_, boy—” A hard finger jabbed into Kieran’s breastbone. It felt like the offender had knocked out whatever breath was left in him. “—is that you been lookin’ where you _shouldn’t_. Now, I dunno ‘bout you—”  


His lips split into a grin, but the malice behind those icy blues had Kieran glued to the spot.

“—but I don’t think the fellers would appreciate an _O’Driscoll_ sniffin’ around one’a the ladies of our fine little camp.”  


“I ain’t no O’Dris—”

“I don’t give a _god_damn,” he snapped, voice low and growling. Kieran flinched back, instinct pulling his hands up defensively. The reaction he got was satisfying, but cheap—Micah relished the idea of getting an opportunity to scare him proper somewhere down the line.

Meanwhile, Kieran was swallowing a whimper. 

“I see you tryin’ to be sweet on my woman again, and you’re gonna have _so much more_ to worry about than those tongs.”  


“But I ain’t—!”  


Kieran was shoved, hard, and he stumbled into a saddled horse before falling hard onto the ground. The surrounding beasts of burden whinnied, shuffling and moving away from the aggression that transpired between the two men. Had it not been for the commotion, Micah would have taken his time lording and looming over him before digging his point in further. But alas, as he turned to see who might be watching, your eyes had been among those drawn to the horses.

Looping a thumb into his belt, Micah rejoined the rest of the gang. He slipped a tight arm around your waist and, when you cast a sidelong glance over his shoulder to check on Kieran, he pulled you in enough to encourage you away as he planted a disarming kiss to your lips.

From propped elbows, Kieran looked on with his heart sinking into the dirt. What was a man to do?


End file.
